Across the Ice
by Jessica237
Summary: Maybe there's a way across the ice after all. Missing scene for 5x10, The Frozen Lake. Based on the deleted scene from the S5 dvd set. KD.


**Title: **Across the Ice  
**By**: Jess  
**Pairing**: Kensi/Deeks  
**Rating**: T  
**Timeline**: Missing scene for 5x10, Frozen Lake. Specifically, post deleted scene on the S5 dvd set.  
**Summary**: Maybe there's a way across the ice after all.

**A/N:** Full disclaimer: it's been 9 months since I've written a one-shot (say what?!) so in all reality, this might be terrible! Haha. Anyway, the deleted scene from Frozen Lake (or more technically, from Spoils of War, I guess) sparked some inspiration that wouldn't go away, and this is the result. A million thanks to the most fabulous **ZBBZL** for making me see it through and actually finish it. Enjoy!

* * *

_"What are you doing to me, Deeks?" _

_"I'm falling in love with you…" _

His whispered declaration keeps replaying in the tangled web of Kensi's mind, over and over again until the words no longer sound like actual, real words anymore. She turns them over again and again, working them through her imagination to the point where she starts to feel uncertain of whether or not he actually said them at all. Were they real? Or merely imaginary, a cruel trick played by her overactive mind on the confused state of her heart?

But then, she knows the overwhelming answer to that question as the emotion takes over – while his words can be shifted by tricks of her mind, while they may lose their meaning after they fade and twist in the shadows, they remain defined solely by feeling. By emotion of the strongest kind, the deepest, most fiery, utterly debilitating kind.

It's the kind of emotion that had pierced the depths of her soul, an emotion she can't just ignore or write off in the light of morning…and Kensi would be lying if she tried to say that didn't startle her.

The sunlight is bright and unyielding as she peels back the curtains, flooding the bedroom with brilliant light. Her tired eyes burn momentarily, but Kensi ignores it, her mind fraught with all that had transpired the night before. She had awoken alone to the sound of running water; bits of light and wisps of steam escaping through the slightly ajar door to the master bath telling her exactly where her partner was. The thought had crossed her mind immediately – she could have found her clothes and made a swift retreat, only facing him upon arrival at Ops later. She could have disappeared silently into the morning, leaving no trace of her presence behind.

And yet, she hadn't.

Instead, she had untangled herself from his sheets, gently stretching tired muscles as she arose from his bed. And then, instead of reaching for her own clothes, she had grabbed an old t-shirt of his from atop his dresser, shrugging it over her own head. And it had been _that_, she realizes, that had sparked her sudden pensive state. _That_ had been what had opened the floodgates in her memory; as the soft fabric fell against her skin, she could almost feel his touch again, strong and masculine, yet so gentle as she melted against him, and _God_, how good it had felt.

Those strong hands had caressed her flushed, heated skin, setting her very soul ablaze with desire. And oh, how she'd needed this – needed _him_, and surely the pleas whispered in the air between their lips hadn't been from her – surely not.

Even now, she can almost feel the hypnotizing dance of his mouth along the hollow of her throat; she can almost feel the silky soft strands of his unruly hair between her fingers and suddenly, there's an ache deep inside her chest, one she can't deny.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Kensi bites at her lip, unsettled. Last night – it _shouldn't_ have happened. He _shouldn't_ have said what he'd said at the restaurant, and Kensi…she _shouldn't_ have stood up, cocking her head toward the door, knowing what was to follow. It just shouldn't have happened.

(And yet…she wouldn't take it back.)

The running water in the bathroom has stopped, and within moments, Kensi's no longer alone in the bedroom. She feels the heat of his body as he slips into her space, so close behind her, yet so far. Still so far.

(She thinks everything will feel too far after having him as close as intimately possible just the night before. Mere hours, but God, how the hours feel like days…)

He doesn't speak, so Kensi's the one who has to gather her courage and make the first move – otherwise, with him standing _so close_ to her and his scent washing over her, she knows she can't control where the depths of her mind might go. "No surf today?" she asks quietly, her voice roughened with sleep.

"Not today," he replies. "Didn't really want to go out."

He shifts slightly, and Kensi catches his reflection faintly in the window; he's bare from the waist up. Her heart quickens in her chest without her permission. "Didn't – didn't really want to put on real clothes either?"

Deeks snickers, tracing a teasing fingertip along the small of her back, very well acquainted with the shirt that covers her frame. "Didn't want to put on your _own_ clothes?" he quips back.

"I guess I couldn't find my bra," she quips right back with a rush of heat to her cheeks.

"Hmm." Deeks smirks. "I know where it's at."

Despite herself, Kensi can't hide her smile. "I'm sure you do…"

He chuckles, and Kensi sighs – _this_ is what she loves. The lighthearted, flirtatious banter that's always come so easily to the two of them. Over the past four years, Marty Deeks has become more than her partner – he's become her best friend, the one person she can always count on, no matter what.

And then, her smile fades slightly, because what she loves so much is also what she's so afraid of losing. What if they've finally crossed a line that makes that inevitable? Right now, she can show up on his doorstep at the most ungodly hour of the night and, even if she'd awoken him from the deepest sleep of his life, he'd still open the door to her and sit on the couch with her, watching anything from terrible reality shows to late night infomercials for the rest of the night.

The prospect of ever losing that makes her heart clench.

Her change in demeanor doesn't go unnoticed by her companion – he picks up on it almost immediately. "What is it?" he whispers softly, almost afraid of the answer. "What's wrong?"

Biting her lip, Kensi shakes her head, knowing he'll never buy her answer. "Nothing," she says softly, shifting on her bare feet. "It's nothing, really. I guess I'm just…thinking."

"About last night?" Deeks presses gently.

Kensi shrugs. "About last night, about everything else…about everything, I guess. And nothing. I don't know. I'm so…" She hesitates, struggling for the word. "Confused. Conflicted. I don't know. I don't know how to explain it…"

"Try me," Deeks coaxes. "Talk to me, Kens – don't shut me out. Please?"

She laughs softly, shaking her head. "That's just it, Deeks," she murmurs, brushing her fingers through her still-tousled hair. "You _are_ in. You're in, and I can't…" Hesitating again, she swallows hard, damning the way her throat tightens with the words. "You're _in_," and it's just…it's been a very long time since I let anyone in…" _Like this_, her thoughts add silently, words that die somewhere along the path from her brain to her lips.

"Since Jack?" he asks quietly, and _God_, how he wants to hold her. He resists, though, even though it would be oh so easy just to loop his arms around her and draw her into him.

Kensi exhales slowly; no matter how many years pass by, it seems the name will always be somewhat of a ghost in her life. She hadn't expected his name to surface so quickly this morning either. "Since…Jack, yeah," she confirms. "I just…you know, the thought of going through that again – I just don't know if I can."

He's quiet for a moment; it's not often that his Kensi is ever this open with him, or anyone, really. "I'm not Jack, you know," he says quietly, placing a palm at her hip – he can no longer _not_ touch her. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," she sighs, but Deeks can sense the uncertainty there.

"We won't end like that."

Kensi shakes her head. "You can't promise that, Deeks." His lips part with an objection, no doubt, but Kensi stops him, the slightest waver in her usually oh so steady voice. "You don't know where we'll be in a year, two years, five. You just – you don't know what's going to happen."

"You're right. I don't know where we'll be in a year or ten or fifty." He pauses, the silence heavy and electric between them. "But I know where I want to be."

"Don't say that, Deeks. Please." She sighs softly; apparently his confession the night before had opened the gates; he's holding nothing back. It's almost too much for her right now.

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"Because it scares you?"

_Damn him_, she thinks. It _terrifies _her, really, but those aren't words that Kensi Blye can articulate. She recalls all too plainly the ache that had consumed her for over a year after Jack just disappeared from her bed; he was supposed to be in love with her. He was supposed to want to spend the rest of his life with her, and how _easy_ it had been simply to walk away from her. She _can't_ face that pain again.

But…more than that, she realizes that what she really can't face is losing Deeks. Such an integral part of her life he's become; it's almost as if their lives have woven together, almost as if they're both halves of one complete whole and to break that…Kensi shudders involuntarily. To lose him would destroy her.

She feels him gently guiding her, wanting to face her and she allows him, facing him for the first time. "Deeks," she whispers, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "What do we do if this…if this just blows up in our faces?" she asks, meeting her partner's gaze.

"And what if it doesn't?" There's no question by the look in his blue eyes – he wants this more than _anything_. "See, that's the thing, Kens," he continues quietly. "Everything has consequences…but they don't always have to be _bad._" His words linger in the air between them as he reaches out, brushing just a fingertip along her forearm. "Some things turn out really, really _good._" He pauses, smiling softly as he recalls the sight of her, sound asleep in his bed not so long ago. "You're still here, Kens. That means part of you thinks this can work."

Kensi says nothing, and Deeks sighs, watching her dark eyes swirl with anxiety. "Talk to me, Kens," he presses gently. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" What's your worst-case scenario? What is it exactly that's telling you no?"

That's something she can't say, no matter how desperately she wants to. Deeks, knowing her better than anyone, senses this and doesn't wait, doesn't force her to reply. "Think about that," he whispers. "And then, think about _us_. Is the tiny risk that something bad _might_ happen really enough to give up on something that could be amazing? Is it really enough to give up without even trying?"

She rolls her eyes, frustrated. "It's – it's more complicated than that, Deeks."

He's not having any of that. "It's not. It's really not."

"Then why does it _feel_ so complicated?"

Deeks smiles slightly. "Because you're Kensi Blye," he quips. And you're trying to rationalize everything." Reaching out, he lays his palms on her arms, letting his thumbs dip just beneath the sleeves of her shirt – _his_ shirt. "So stop that," he teases. "Stop that, and tell me what you're feeling, Kens. Not what you're thinking. Not what you think you _should_ be feeling." With that, he lifts a hand to her face, tucking a wavy, loose tendril of hair behind her ear – God, he can't deny the spark of desire he feels, knowing why her hair is so tousled. "Tell me what you're feeling, right now," he repeats, his voice a smooth, velvety caress. "Tell me what you felt last night."

Brow furrowed, she tries to turn away from him - this is exactly what she can't do. How can she look him in the eye and verbalize what he's somehow managed to do to her, when she can't even explain it to herself? How is she supposed to tell him that even now, just the slightest brush of his fingertips along her cheek is enough to spark something deep inside of her, a deep desire that's so, so much more than just lust.

How can she stand here with him and try to admit something that she's always associated with a weakness she refuses to show? The last time she felt a fraction of this, she'd jumped headfirst into something she'd truly believed would last until her dying day. Jack had said all the pretty words; he'd made her feel special, beautiful, loved. And then in the blink of an eye, it all came down in shambles around her and Kensi had never truly been able to pick up all the pieces again. It had nearly killed her - the pain, the denial, the shards of hope that twisted brutally in her heart, leaving behind the kind of scars that can be hidden, but never really truly disappear.

It's the reason why she'd never really let anyone get close to her again, not like that. She's always been able to push everyone else away with only minor casualties…until _him_. Until Marty Deeks, and the harder she tries to keep him at arm's length, the more he manages to sneak his way inside her walls, into her heart and it's frustrating, _so_ frustrating because she has _no_ control over any of it.

She squeezes her eyes shut as the emotion begins to consume her – anger, frustration, irritation…want, desire, lust, desperation…_love…_ It's too much too fast, and she feels seconds away from the breaking point as she thinks back to the very first day she'd met him and back then, she would have _never_ imagined that her defenses wouldn't be strong enough for him.

She was never supposed to feel this way for him.

She wasn't supposed to feel like her life would be empty if he was no longer in it.

She wasn't supposed to fall in love with him.

And yet…

"Damn you," she breathes, hands clenching roughly into shaky fists. "Damn you, Marty…"

He's unperturbed. If anything, there's an urgency in his voice as he questions her. "For what?" His eyes dart to her hands, and easily, gently, his own fingers wrap around her wrists. Deeks can feel her pulse, pounding against her skin, against his skin. "For what, Kensi?" he repeats.

"Deeks…"

"Say it," he pleads. The tension in her body builds; she's coiled like a spring beneath his touch, his gaze. It's there; he can sense it and he lets out a deep breath, drawing back the memory of similar words she'd demanded of him what seems like an eternity ago. "Say what you mean, Kensi."

Her lips part but all that escapes is a tiny, quavering whimper; it's perhaps the weakest sound she could possibly make but between the pounding of her heart and the barrage of emotion and desire and wisps of rational thought warring within her, Kensi can't spare it even the slightest momentary attention.

She knows what he's asking of her – and God, she feels _exactly_ what it is that he wants her to say. She feels it in spades, pulsing through her like an electric heat, sparks bursting through every fiber of her being, across every patch of skin thoroughly explored by fingertips and lips the night before. She feels what had started from the very first laser, what had persisted through the very first surge of jealousy, what had grown through the first of many, many cozy movie nights; what had become sheer terror when Kensi had seen him, tied to that chair, blood spilling from the wounds on his face, utter horror in those beautiful blue eyes. It had become desperation in the weeks that followed; desperation and heartache as he refused to take her calls, to take _anyone's_ calls and her own nights had become a mix of nightmares and insomnia; nightmares filled with him, being tortured in front of her, helpless to save him, and insomnia as her rampant imagination tormented her reminding her that he could be slipping farther into the darkness, slipping away from her in the aftermath of it all.

Desperation and heartache and utter worry had blessedly shifted to relief, sweet relief when she'd finally coaxed him to open the door to her, bringing tidings of greasy dinner, movies, and a weeks-old cronut. She'd _felt_ it more than once that night and the morning that followed – the flutter in her heart at his sleepy words, at the feel of his arms around her and his heartbeat steady beneath her ear as she'd awoken with him.

So many moments that she probably should have seen it growing, progressing, and still it had eluded her until they'd finally ended up here. The first kiss, undercover. The second kiss, impulsive. The third kiss…and the fourth, and the fifth, the twentieth and beyond as his arms wrapped around her, as her hands fisted in his hair, as he lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist in the dark; her heart pounding and desire coiling as they tumbled somewhat gracelessly onto his bed with bursts of uninhibited laughter and teasing (he'd tripped awkwardly on a toy of Monty's in the dark, a squeaky one of course).

The emotion that had won out over all of her conflicted thoughts, over all trace of fear as she clutched her fingers in the shirt he still wore and lifted her head, bringing her lips to his.

She _feels_ everything.

And yet, there's still that part of her that thinks if she doesn't say the words, then maybe, just maybe, she retains some of her control over it all.

(At least, that's what she tells herself.)

The words won't come, hindered by the wall that's crumbling, but not entirely down yet. And surprisingly, Kensi finds herself frustrated. She's fought this for so damned long only to succumb to it in the end and yet, she can't find the words for herself, let alone for him. She swallows hard, forcing her voice to the surface despite how shaky, how small it sounds. "What do you want me to say, Deeks?"

"It's easy," he whispers, touching his forehead to hers. "What do you want?"

"I don't know…"

"Yes you _do_, Kens…"

There's a slight twinge of anguish in his voice and it just _kills_ her because he's been through _so_ much and the last thing she wants is for him to hurt more. It should be _easy_, she thinks as she loses herself in his eyes yet again, drowning in a deep sapphire blue, the same blue as the ocean he loves so much. The intensity there dizzies her; it's a look she knows oh so well after last night and as the shivers slowly consume her body, she knows exactly what she wants. She knows what _he_ wants…but being a stubborn Blye, she traces her tongue over her parched lips and places the ball back in his court. "What – what do _you_ want?"

His lips curve just slightly, an amused smile in the wake of such a ridiculous question. Diverting the true question of the hour back to him; that's his Kensi, frustrating, irritating, beautiful. His eyes never waver from hers as he brings a gentle hand to her face, tracing the soft blush in her cheek with merely the pad of his ring finger before fully cupping her chin. "I told you what I wanted last night," he murmurs. "I told you I don't care about anything else because I just want you."

She knows it's coming before he even ducks his head in toward hers. "Just you…" he whispers once more before he kisses her slowly, savoring the soft press of her lips against his.

It feels an eternity before their lips part, before he ducks his head and presses a kiss, then two, then a third to her jaw; slow, gentle, reverent kisses that leave her heart fluttering, hungry for more. "You – you really don't care what happens?" Her voice hitches as his scruff teases her skin – _God_, the memories that flood her from the night before.

"I care about what happens between you and me," he answers simply. "I don't give a damn about anything else." He gives those words mere seconds to sink into her before he continues, his voice low and quietly seductive, so close to her ear that his breath plays over her skin, hot as a flame. "That's what you've done to me, Agent Blye."

Kensi swallows hard, and without even fully realizing it, her palms find the toned muscles of his bare chest, desperate for support as his words leave her dizzy. "_You're_ – you're supposed to become an agent," she says weakly. "What if – what if Hetty makes you choose?"

His answer is immediate, and so confident that it frightens Kensi. "The only reason I'm still there anyway," he whispers, pausing to press another slow kiss to her jaw, "is _you_."

How cruel that his choice is made oh so easily, but for Kensi, the anguish and the uncertainty tear her apart inside. Her thoughts return to their whispered conversation the night before. The fears and concerns within her own mind had deafened her, but apparently they had also become so audible in the minute space between them that Deeks had somehow heard, breaking free from a slow, sultry kiss to question her, fearing the worst.

And she'd wanted _so_ badly to just accept his suggestion not to choose, because feeling her heart pound against her chest, losing herself in those deep, cobalt eyes… But she can't, though. Because Kensi Blye is black and white; the greys of uncertainty have no place in her life. And that's exactly what not choosing would mean. It would mean facing every day fearing that the littlest thing in the merged sphere of personal and professional might go wrong, forcing a sudden decision between the two, right there on the spot. If she fails to choose, she might lose one or both at any given time.

And yet, for Deeks? It's no question. It's simple. "If I have to choose," he adds, "I'll hand Hetty my resignation today."

"Deeks, no…"

"No?"

Kensi shakes her head. "I don't…" She presses her teeth into her bottom lip, every fiber of her usual tough, badass spirit fighting the words that play upon her tongue. "I don't want you to go. I don't want to lose my partner."

But then, somewhat contrary to her words, Kensi brings a hand to his scruffy cheek and guides his mouth back to hers in a slow, heated kiss that says everything she can't say. "I love…what we have," she murmurs against his mouth, her lips moving deliciously against his. _God_, she loves what they have.

As their kiss becomes more heated, Deeks thinks he knows what fuels at least a little of her fear. It's no secret that she hasn't had the best luck with other partners, and finally, finally she's found someone that she can trust with her life, no matter what. It's exactly how he feels – he'd put her life in her hands any day, no matter what. And he knows from experience that it's hard, if not impossible to find someone else like that, once you've already found it once.

He knows how much this job means to her; he knows how much it means to her to have a partner she can count on. But he also knows that, relationship or not, he'd still lay his life down for her. Deeks parts from her lips, savoring the soft, reluctant sound that flutters to his ears. "Kensi," he breathes, gently tracing her cheek with the pad of his thumb, "I know you think this changes everything. But…trust me, Kens. Trust me. If you think the fact that I'm in love with you –" she gasps softly at his words; somehow, they're so much heavier in the sunlight than they'd been just the night before, with him hovering above her, still much too far away for her liking. "If you think _that's_ going to change what we have at work…"

He trails off, chuckling quietly. "Then I guess you don't realize just how long I've been falling for you."

He'll say it again and again and again, but right now, he just wants to kiss her. And so he does. She sighs softly as her mouth eagerly meets his, kissing him with the same fervor, the same desire that had consumed them both just the night before.

His strong arms wrap around her, pulling her against him and suddenly, Kensi feels herself surrendering. How he does this to her, she has no idea. Her mind begins to shut down, blurred by heat and desire and emotion and vaguely she thinks that he could ask anything of her right now and she'd freely give it. "How do you _do_ this to me?" she murmurs into his kiss, feeling the seductive caress of his hands, devilish as they sneak beneath soft cotton. Shivering, she all but melts into him as her hands find his hips, her fingers curling gently into the towel that hangs loosely around his hips.

Deeks tears his lips from hers for but a moment, eyes still closed as he savors the feel of her skin, warm and silky beneath his touch. "Do you want this?" he asks.

They both know he means more than just what's happening now.

Eyes still closed, Kensi flicks her tongue over her lips, tasting him there, wanting more. She hesitates for but a moment before her fingers tighten in the fabric of his towel, and then she nods slowly.

It's clear what she wants in the present moment as she tugs at his towel, and Deeks kisses her quickly. He knows she's still worried about everything, but right now, if she's content to live in this moment, so is he. "You know you won't have time to run home and change before work, right?" he murmurs against her mouth.

Her reply is steady, instant as the towel falls from his hips, pooling on the carpet below. "I don't care…" She knows Callen and Sam can spot that kind of thing a mile away; they'll recognize her shirt from yesterday before she even takes her seat in the bullpen.

Deeks smirks, almost as if reading her mind. "You can always borrow one of my shirts," he whispers, feeling her shiver as his palms splay over her stomach.

And despite the tension, the worry, and the secret fear all competing with the desire, the flame he's stoked deep inside of her, Kensi laughs. It's bubbly and beautiful, a sound Deeks can't help yearning to hear on a lazy, playful Sunday morning, the two of them tangled together in his sheets.

He breaks away from her one last time, whispering her name as he gazes into her eyes – he swears that every time he does, he falls even more for her. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Her cheeks tint as she nibbles at her lip. She's not sure what to reply to that, but she knows that somehow, with him, she _feels_ more beautiful than she ever has before. One of her hands snakes its way upward before her fingers thread through his unruly, still damp locks. She tugs, just gently, but it's enough that Deeks growls softly. The heat pooling at Kensi's core goes utterly molten, and that's the point where her mind finally shuts completely down. "One more time," she breathes heavily, pulling him into another searing kiss.

_All she wants is him._

* * *

It's a carefully crafted speech she gives him later, after the complicating and utterly _frustrating_ events of the morning. Everything that had felt so _right_ as they'd made love again had been marred once again by all the uncertainty in her head, leaving her more torn than she'd been before.

She lets her mind conquer her heart as she talks to him in the firing range, comparing their relationship to a metaphor she'd learned of in one of her Sayoc classes. Her frozen lake…the one thing she wants more than anything in the world; the one thing she'd do utterly _anything_ to have.

It's _him_. It's _them_.

And hours later, Kensi finally decides to go for it.

Maybe there's a way across the ice after all.

(And even if it breaks, they both can swim.)


End file.
